hero complex
by Virbank
Summary: There's a lot to be compared to. — Cheren


**a/n: a character study on Cheren, whom I hold dear in my heart.**

**+standard disclaimer**

* * *

**hero complex**

(there's a lot to be compared to.)

* * *

There are things that Cheren doesn't think he'll ever understand. It takes time, but his relationship with Black and White doesn't change—he just realizes. They're their own dreamland that is far off and lost in clouds of stardust and he's just not.

He thinks there's a line between heroes and zeroes. And destiny. There's always destiny, too. He's forever bound to be the understudy to Black and his messy hair and his shit-eating grins and his fucking heroism.

With that logic, Bianca is White's locum both with cheery smiles and blood red lipstick and masks of porcelain, but White's bound to wear it better. In a few years, they'll be names in a small textbox in a forgotten corner of a textbook under the biography of the Heroes of Unova (capital h, because fuck you).

And anyway, it's not even like they wanted to save the world. It just kind of happened.

…

Cheren does not want to be remembered as 'the friend' when it comes to Black and White, because that's not the whole story. He was once the almost lover to White and the foil to Black, after all. But that's not the story people want to hear; they crave solidity and single-tracked love stories that make him want to puke.

There is a chance, however, that the public wouldn't be able to handle the truth. It'd be shocking to know that their beloved heroes saved them on a whim and were so far from textbook-romance it was ridiculous.

Still, when he goes to Nimbasa, a young girl approaches him.

"Oh, you're friends with Black and White, right?"

He disappears for a month.

…

Being a gym leader has its perks. There's a crazy amount of respect and he's suddenly stripped of all former titles. He's just Cheren Blanc of Aspertia, now. And it feels nice.

His Emboar has not been in a proper battle since his last trip to the Elite Four, and he knows that technically, he should be one of them. It's a title that would suit him, give him an air of class, but he doesn't want it. Then, he'd be forever reminded that he is incapable of beating White or Black, because someone dealt him a shitty hand of cards.

So when he sees the kids in town looking to become trainers, he gives a manic laugh and leaves Bianca to wonder what went wrong.

…

He wants to laugh and let sarcasm drip off of his lips when he sees them. Their names are Nate and Rosa and if they got haircuts, they'd be his lost friends' carbon copies, despite the fact they're four years younger.

He thinks it's goddamn funny when he sees them because they've got the same make-up, same formula, same equation. Shit-eating grins and façades of innocence and Juniper's put all her faith into them.

They're the replacements, and that's when he's realized it. Soon enough, the world will need to be saved again (the universe craves attention, after all) and they'll be the ones doing it. In Virbank, they'll make a movie about it and then the world will forget about Black and White.

He wonders if they're having fun wherever the hell they are, and if they regret their choices. After all, there's a lot to regret when you're a hero.

…

Stu Deeoh asks for an interview when Nate and Rosa and Hugh return to Aspertia for the week before heading back out to Nimbasa City. They're smiles and laughter and bedroom eyes and Cheren doesn't really want to know.

"A movie," Deeoh says. "We're making a movie on the Heroes of Unova."

"Why the hell does that concern me?"

"They're your friends, Cheren."

There is a pause and Cheren thinks about his words carefully.

"Were. They _were_ my friends, past tense."

"How can you say that?" Deeoh asks with shock and horror and other emotions that make Cheren want to wince.

"They've been gone a year and a half. No messages or sightings," he deadpans. "Most likely, they're dead."

Deeoh replies, "Or they don't want to be found."

"The hell's the difference?"

…

Roxie stops by and in a frenzy of alcohol they end up in a hotel room sans clothes and dignity. Cheren doesn't know _why_ he downed the bottle of Jägermeister but Cheren doesn't know a lot of things.

He admits he is a coward when he writes his letter requesting a two-week break due to overwork and the need to relax, something he hasn't done since he got the damn post. So he runs away to Nimbasa and its amusement parks and bright lights and the Ferris wheel.

He sits on the bench by the Wheel and reminisces about before things went to hell. Days of ice cream and a common goal and heroics didn't even cross their minds.

"Is this seat taken?"

He looks up to the voice that scratches like it's smoked a thousand cigarettes to find a girl with torn jean shorts and a tight white tank top and a black vest and a boy a full head taller then her, arm thrown over her shoulders like he'd be lost without it. They are both wearing an expression he can't place, one that screams pain and desire and weariness.

He clicks his tongue and stands up.

"I was just leaving."

(he swears he hears her hum and say "you'll come back eventually" before the disappear into the crowd.)


End file.
